To the Rats
by Ghost-Tongued
Summary: INACTIVE - BARRICADE/OFC and STARSCREAM/ALEXIS; Two women; two Decepticons; nine Autobots; an estimated 6.6 billion humans; one mutual enemy.
1. Prologue

**Title:** To the Rats**  
Author: **ShadowDemon-Gengar**  
Category: **Transformers**  
Character Pairings: **Barricade/OC; Starscream/Alexis**  
Genre: **Romance/Drama**  
Rating: **T**  
Warnings: **Profanity**  
Disclaimers: **I own nothing Transformers.**  
Summary: **Two women; two Decepticons; nine Autobots; over 6.6 billion humans; one mutual enemy. The Decepticons and Autobots are at it again, preparing themselves for another intense battle against one another, but what is going to happen when both sides learn of a more heinous threat slowly making its way toward Earth, searching for the spark of Primus?

**Recommendation(s):** Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, as you probably know, this story has gone through hell. This is its second revision, though its change isn't _as_ drastic as before. The plot is basically the same except for the simple fact that I've taken out Thumper and Dallas. I just wasn't interested in them anymore and I felt they were holding back the story and my inspiration to keep writing it.

I probably lost interest in them because Thumper was my first, original TFormer . . . but now that I have _'Transformers: The Astro Limit'_, I have more than enough originality so go around. I just want to focus on Barricade and Starscream now, like I was going to do.

So, without further ado, I give you back "To the Rats". :)

* * *

**Prologue**

_"Get back 'ere, you hunk of Decepticon scrap!"_

The growling, taunting voice of the Autobot's weapons specialist seemed to vibrate the very air, but the dark Decepticon was yards away from them, running through the forest as fast as his already heavily damaged body could take him, trying desperately to avoid slamming into trees or tripping over ones laying nearly hidden under years' worth of decaying foliage.

But it was difficult as he charged through the dense woods in the dead of night, having sacrificed the guidance of his high beams in hope of keeping himself hidden.

His energon was racing through his titanium veins, leaking steadily from his vicious wounds as he ducked under thick tree limbs and hopped over ditches deeply engraved into the earth.

As determined as he was to escape, his body just wasn't having it. His wounds were screaming and his high quantity of oxygen intake was becoming more and more difficult for his vents to filter. His processing program was setting off alarms and feeding him second-by-second information on his level of energon and the condition of his body, and right now, it was telling him that he was losing too much vital fluid and that his vents were beginning to overheat.

But he ignored the urgent warnings; he didn't have time to stop. He could still hear the rambunctious lot of Autoscum; they were dead set on finding him and finishing him off. No, he couldn't afford to stop, not if he wanted to live another day. He could afford a little internal damage if it meant getting away.

_Disable Emergency Offline Activation program_, he mentally growled, not wanting his central processing unit to shut him down in the middle of his escape should his damages become too severe. _If my body reaches critical, engage Coolant System and release back up energon_.

_'Emergency Offline Activation overridden – Coolant System engaging – Emergency Energon Backup preparing,' _responded the male, monotone voice of his processing program.

He felt a sudden rush of cold, almost numbing liquid push through every inch of his fuel cables, the sudden shock of it momentarily catching him off guard, and it in those few seconds of distraction that made things go from bad to _really_ bad.

His sensors' red-light warnings echoed throughout his head, his barely operating Night Vision not honing in on the web of vines in time until he was already pummeling through them.

Most of the weaving lengths of vegetation gave way, but he was abruptly brought up short when some of the thicker vines caught him firmly around the ankle joints. Instead of snapping under his strength and weight, they stubbornly held fast, causing his feet to stop dead in their tracks as momentum of his body kept going.

"Argh!" he shouted, surprised, and crashed to the ground with such force that the forest floor actually trembled.

_"Over there! I think I heard him over there!" _shouted one of his enemies.

He struggled violently to get free from the tangled mess wrapped tightly around his ankle joints, his Spark pulsing hard as he heard his enemies closing in fast, their headlight beams growing brighter and brighter as they grew closer.

Savagely slicing through the vines with his talons until he was able to successfully free himself, Barricade struggled back to his feet only to nearly fall again when his leg practically buckled. His hands immediately grabbed at his knee joint as red-hot pain exploded up and down his leg.

Gritting his teeth, he took a moment to look at the damage. Glowing, neon pink energon coated his metallic claws and gushed out from the shattered kneecap.

_'Energon level will reach critical in eighteen-point-six nano-kliks,' _informed the calm voice of his processor

_Estimate the distance left before reaching the other side of this fragging forest, _he demanded, fighting to ignore the circuit-clenching pain coming from his newly inherited wound as he forced himself to keep moving, using the trees to propel his weight forward.

_'Estimation: sixty-seven Earth yards.'_

_Scan ahead; are there Autobots on the other side?_ he thought frantically.

He was beginning to feel lightheaded from the pulsing pain of his wounds and the extreme loss of his body's liquidated solar-energy.

_'Error: sensors not responding; scanning failed. Second attempt will begin in five seconds, _responded the male voice, and then continued with, _'Energon level has reached critical – Emergency Energon Backup engaging.'_

Using the tiny boost of energy caused by the fresh flow of energon to his last advantage, Barricade threw himself from tree to tree, able to keep any damaging pressure off his blown kneecap. He felt numbing relief course through his body when he finally saw a clearing coming up ahead.

_'WARNING! WARNING! Three Cybertronian signatures. WARNING: hostile intentions.' _

But the second attempted scan came too late. He trampled past the last few trees . . . and into an ambush.

"_**Freeze**_, Deceptiscum!"

Breathing heavily, he stared into an Autobot's plasma cannon, its barrel burning hot with deadly intent as it pressed in close to his head. He slowly took in his surroundings, a heavy, defeated and tired sensation weighing him down until he was slowly sinking to his knees, the dirt cool against his heated steel.

Everything that had happened in the past hour came crashing into him with an angry vengeance: the assassination attempt on the Autobots' human allies; the miscalculation in the plan; enraged Autobots open firing on him and his partner-in-crime; then being chased through the forest.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the other Autobots that had been chasing him stomp into the clearing, ultimately cornering him. He took notice of the disembodied tail of Scorponok tightly clenched in one of the younger soldiers' fist. A chill sank deep into his circuits.

They weren't going to just simply kill him . . .

A proud Decepticon to the end, he turned his gaze up to the night sky, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing the defeat in his optics as they drew closer around him, their weapons drawn.

He blinked his optics once, momentarily caught up in the beauty of the stars. They sparkled down at him like tiny diamonds.

He watched the beautiful midnight sky, feeling something inside his chest – something dark and angry that had had a hold of his Spark for so long throughout the war between the Autobots and Decepticons – lift away; releasing him from its harsh grip and leaving him feeling . . . lighter; content even.

As the hulking figures surrounding him came down on him in one massive shadow, completely blocking out the velvety, dark sky, he couldn't help but wonder . . . with his last, conscious thought . . . if things would have been different; happier, even . . . if he had chosen a different path in his life?


	2. Chapter I

**Title: **To the Rats  
**Author: **ShadowDemon-Gengar  
**Character Pairings: **Barricade/OC; Starscream/Alexis  
**Genre: **Romance/Drama  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Profanity  
**Disclaimers: **I own nothing Transformers.  
**Summary: **Two women; two Decepticons; nine Autobots; over 6.6 billion humans; one mutual enemy. The Decepticons and Autobots are at it again, preparing themselves for another intense battle against one another, but what is going to happen when both sides learn of a more heinous threat slowly making its way toward Earth, searching for the spark of Primus?

**Recommendation(s):** Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

* * *

**Author's Note: **. . . WOW, people. I love you. Seriously. I woke up this morning after I posted the prologue to find I had 19 alerts (mixture of everything), plus the stuff I got almost immediately after posting the story as well as the few lingering ones. You guys are so awesome! And just to reassure everyone, THIS will be my last revision, I promise. Also, I think I'm going to suggest that everyone throw out what they remember from before and start anew. Sure, you're going to remember a lot of things from before because I'm recycling as well as adding new stuff, but in the all, it's going to be different. :)

* * *

**Chapter One: Law and Order**

_"Liberty, LOOK OUT!"_

_Liberty turned in time to catch the repeated sex offender shove the restraining police officer away from him, stealing the falling man's revolver and lifting it to take deadly aim at her head. _

_Her world seemed to crash to a stop, her eyes widening as a slimy, evil grin stretched across his horribly scarred features, his dark eyes glittering in triumph. _

_As if in slow motion, she watched helplessly as his finger tightened on the trigger, the hammer slowly cocking back before slamming forward again, exploding a copper bullet with a deafening bang . . . _

Liberty woke with a start, a gasping and looking around wildly.

"Whoa, whoa! Everything's okay!"

She looked up, startled, to see at the dark-skinned woman leaning over her, her dark eyes filled with raw worry.

"For God's sake, Liberty, you look _horrible_!" she cried, quickly lowering herself into a chair next to her.

"Ughn . . . " she mumbled, scrubbing her hands over her face and taking a deep, shaky breath to calm down. "I'm . . . fine, Darla."

"Uh huh, tell that to those hideous bags under your eyes," Darla replied dryly, leaning down to retrieve a compact mirror from her purse. She handed it to her, giving it an insistent shake when she wouldn't take it.

Sighing, Liberty snatched the mirror from her friend, leveling her with an impatient glare before popping it open.

She grimaced at her reflection.

She _did_ look horrible. Ghostly-pale skin with dark circles under her tired, blue eyes; stress lines etched around her mouth and in her forehead, making her look so much older than she was; blonde hair hanging limply and weakly in her face.

She sighed and smacked the mirror down on the office desk, groaning and hiding her face in her hands again.

"Talk to me, Lib'," her fellow co-worker whispered, scooting closer to her. "It's about him again, isn't it?"

For a long moment she didn't respond, pulling her hands away and turning to stare out of her office window. She felt Darla place a warm hand on her arm and rub it in a soothingly gesture.

Without looking from the window, she finally murmured, "He's on parole."

There was a stretch of silence.

Then a sharp intake of breath.

"W-what?" the chocolate-complexioned woman whispered, jerking her hand away as if she had been burned.

"Exactly," she whispered, turning to glance at Darla anxiously. "He's out on the streets again because he knows how to pull strings and now he's out there looking for me, I know it."

"No. _No_, he's not looking for you," her friend stated firmly. "Even if he was, where would he know to look? You're in California now. You practically moved to the other side of the _country_. "

"Yeah . . . I guess," she murmured, sitting up a little straighter and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Despite Darla's comforting words, she still felt sick with worry.

"Look, I'm going to talk to the Chief about this and see if I can't get you a few days away from work."

She looked at Darla sharply. "_No_, Darla. You –,"

"Shut up," she said, smiling reassuringly. "You _need_ sleep. You look disgusting."

She scowled at that. The dark woman laughed, smirking lightly before taking up her purse and mirror and getting up to leave.

"Don't worry, okay? James and I can take over your case while you're gone," she said as she moved to the door. Before leaving though, she turned and gave her a stern look. "I mean it, Lib'. Get some rest."

With that, the tall woman strolled out, sending her a little, cheery wave through the glass wall before disappearing out of sight.

Liberty sat there for the longest time, just staring at the spot where Darla had been sitting.

Her fingers absently moved to the side of her neck, lightly touching the scar marring her skin. Sighing, she pulled her hand away and checked her watch before getting up.

Slowly, she went about packing up her files and personal belongings, turning off her office's computer then the light before stepping out into the hall, locking the door securely behind her.

"'Night, Liberty!" called out one of her co-workers as she passed by the other offices and cubicles. She smiled and gave a little wave in response, heading out into the emptying parking lot.

The drive home was a silent one, her thoughts too caught up in the man that had almost killed her and who was now free-walking.

Joseph Reynolds . . .

She couldn't understand what had happened to him; what had _changed_ him. For as long as she could remember he had been a wonderful, charming man – good looking, athletic, polite, and entertaining. Not to mention protective; he had beaten the snot out of every guy that had ever made her cry.

And now he was a free, convicted sex offender, and ever fiber in her being was screaming that she was in danger; the he was coming for her, wanting to get back at her for, as he would say, betraying him.

She wanted to believe that she was safe, at least for a little while, living in California. But part of her still felt like she was being hunted.

Liberty pulled up into her driveway and slid up into the garage before cutting off the engine. She sat there for a while, absently studying her vehicle's maker's symbol etched into the center of the steering wheel.

The question was . . . even if he was looking for her . . . what would she do if he found her?

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking the brunt of her exhaustion.

Darla was right, she needed a break.

Rubbing her eyes, she grabbed her things and got out.

* * *

His intense, burning gaze took in the natural, tranquil beauty of the planet.

Earth was nothing he had ever really seen before: deep blue oceans; healthy, green lands; soft, white masses of clouds.

It glowed with such angelic purity; exuded sweet, sweet promises of a peaceful, nurturing life.

And it begged to be marred and ravished; to be forced into a life of fire, destruction, and rotting corpses. So who was he to deny such a beautiful request?

"Starscream, we're ready to transform into our protopods."

The Air Commander, never taking his blazing-red optics from the gently and slowly turning planet, stated roughly, "Forget the protopods, Thundercracker."

"But -,"

He glared sharply over his shoulder-wing, daring the other Decepticon to question him. His fellow Cybertronian fell silent, ducking his head slightly.

"Just use the designs I gave you and Skywarp," he growled, turning his attention back to their view of Earth. "The only ones who'll need to transform into their protopods are Cyclonous and Demolishor. Any contact from Scorponok or Barricade?"

"No," Thundercracker responded, sounding distracted, busy scanning the design for his soon-to-be Earth disguise. When he was finished, he continued, "I've sent message after message but no response. Even the radar is blank. It's very possible that the Autobots destroyed them."

He remained silent, his jaw clenching. It didn't matter. The two would have been a handful of trouble anyway, with their loyalties still lying with Megatron even when the slagger was _dead_.

"Never mind them then," he said, turning and stalking past his newly ranked lieutenant. "Engage the cloaking system around the _War Victor_, set up coordinates for the Decepticons' base, and prepare the bay for launching."

"Yes, sir."

Starscream watched his second-in-command quickly disappear around the corner, leaving him alone once more to sink into thought.

It'd been over four mega-cycles since his fight with the Autobots over the Allspark; since Megatron's downfall; since he'd exploded out from Earth's atmosphere with plans to head back to Cybertron; since his plan to round up plenty of recruits to take back with him.

And only a handful joined him. No one wanted to be under his command, much to his disbelief and rage. They _still_ thought he was inferior to Megatron; thought he wasn't worthy enough to replace him.

A dark scowl pulled across his features.

Well, he was going to prove them all wrong. He was going _destroy_ Optimus Prime and bring back his head as proof that he _was_ worthy of replacing Megatron.

_No_, he thought, slowly smirking. _I won't **just**_ _be replacing him._ _I'll be showing all of Cybertron that I **am**_ _better than Megatron; that I'll have done what that fragger has failed to do so many times! I will have **defeated **Optimus Prime!_

* * *

Liberty jumped, startled out of her reading when her cell phone cheerily belted out its ringtone of Beethoven's _'Flight of the Bumblebee'_.

Sighing, she snatched it up and flipped it open.

"Hello?" she said, stifling a yawn in her hand.

_"Roses are red, violets are blue; what'ch'you wearing girl 'cause I totally wanna get wit' you!"_

Liberty paused . . . then started laughing.

"Alexis, what is _wrong_ with you?"

She could hear the grin in the other woman's voice as she replied with a laugh, _"A lot of things. I'd tell you what they were . . . but then my therapist would have to kill you." _Her tone then became serious and a bit worried. _"Darla called me up earlier and told me you weren't doing too well . . . Is everything all right?"_

"Um, yeah. Just . . . having sleeping problems," she murmured, glancing over at the clock sitting on her fireplace's mantle.

It was reading near ten o'clock.

_"She told me about Joseph, Lib' . . . ," _her friend whispered.

Liberty closed her eyes.

_"Don't think about it too much, okay?"_

"I'm trying," she sighed. They quickly changed subjects after that, swapping stories about their days at work and recent events in their lives. She had to smile as her friend went on about how she almost tried to knock out an irate customer with a wrench because he had been yelling at her due to her not changing his oil fast enough.

Alexis Parker was the one friend she ever truly stayed in contact with after their high school days, even when they had parted to different locations of the country to start their dream careers; Alexis, the automotive technician; her, the homicide investigation detective.

After having put Joseph behind bars, even if it had only been for a little while, she had felt she needed to get away; start over, essentially. When she had told Alexis this, the little grease monkey had immediately suggested transferring to the LAPD.

She hadn't been too keen on the idea, moving from Ohio to practically the other end of the country. But Alexis had been persistent.

It hadn't taken her long to actually find her a place of her own in California; a small, two-story house sitting on a nice patch of land out in country part of Los Angeles.

_"Holy crap!"_

She jerked, startled.

"What? What is it?"

_"Your window! Go to your window!"_

"Wait . . . what?" she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

_"Go to your window now! Look at the sky! Now, now, **NOW**!"_

Still confused, she leapt from her warm spot on the couch and ran to the nearest window. She peered through her cream-colored curtains and scanned the dark sky.

"What am I looking – oh, wow.

She pushed the curtain open wider, her gaze locked on the comet slicing through the midnight sky. Its body was smoldering black in hellfire flames as it soared over the horizons, vanishing from sight as quickly as it had appeared.

_"Did'ja see it?"_ Alexis asked breathlessly from the other end of the phone line. _"Did you **see** it?! Oh, my God, that was awesome!" _

But she wasn't listening. She was distracted by something else; something she thought she had seen glinting in the darkness.

_"Liberty? Hey, are you there?"_

She pressed the phone back to her mouth, replying, "Yeah, sorry about that. I thought I saw something."

_"Um . . ._ **_yeah_**_, why wouldn't you have? I mean, geez, that thing was_ _**huge**!"_

"What? Oh, oh yeah, it was pretty cool, wasn't it?"

_"We'll hear about it on the news tomorrow, I'm sure."_

She gave an affirmative _'mmhm'_ and with a second glance out the window, turned away. She flicked off her lamp and headed for her room, all the while still conversing. It was after they had finally bid one another good night that she decided to get some rest.

The covers were like a warm embrace, wrapped around her tightly and giving her a sense of security; something she never really felt anymore, especially now that her stepbrother as out and about.

She turned onto her side and snuggled her face into the pillow, releasing a small sigh as she slowly closed her eyes.

She wished things could have been so different. She missed the days of happiness and carefree feelings; things she was probably never going to experience again for a long, _long _time . . .


	3. Chapter II

**Title: **To the Rats  
**Author: **ShadowDemon-Gengar  
**Character Pairings: **Barricade/OC; Starscream/Alexis  
**Genre: **Romance/Drama  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Profanity  
**Disclaimers: **I own nothing Transformers.  
**Summary: **Two women; two Decepticons; nine Autobots; over 6.6 billion humans; one mutual enemy. The Decepticons and Autobots are at it again, preparing themselves for another intense battle against one another, but what is going to happen when both sides learn of a more heinous threat slowly making its way toward Earth, searching for the spark of Primus?

**Recommendation(s):** Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, I really liked this chapter. Sure, it's still one of the recycled (or 'polished', as _manytwos _had put it) chapters, but I added in some stuff. I actually want to add something darker (inspired by _Blackwing.Roses_' _"Hourglass" _) before or into the second battle so as to really bump up the romance and lengthen the story. I also want to say that I understand where you're coming from, _manytwos_, saying that it's awkward for the story when the TFormers keep up with Earth's unit system. I mean, yeah, I know their units for time, but I don't know any for measurement. If any of you know what the TFormers units for measurement are, please tell me? If not, I guess I could start create them. :)

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Cry for Help**

Well . . . she found out where the mysterious glinting had come from.

Liberty stood there, puzzled and covered in garden mulch, staring at the massive heap of twisted, black steel hiding under a thick vegetation of vines, weeds, shrubs, and a couple of surrounding trees.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured, leaning in closer to examine the busted headlight peeking out at her. "It's a car."

Screwing her face up into a look of determination and tugging her gloves on tighter, she then went at the monstrous-sized vines and bushes, tearing and pulling away the vegetation and revealing more and more of the vehicle.

She stood back after removing what she could to stare at the ghastly sight she'd uncovered.

Deep gouges scarred the heavily dented hood; holes were punched through the sides; every window was shattered; a taillight was hanging out while the rest were broken completely; two tires and even the driver's side door were missing; and the black interior was shredded and smothered with wires.

"Jesus," she whispered, absolutely appalled by the vehicle's horrendous appearance. She estimated it had been hidden for a while now, maybe a few months even.

But what she wanted to know was had happened. Who or what had been horrible enough to tear a car a part?

She frowned. First thing was first: she needed to get it out of there.

* * *

Sighing, she plucked the cell phone from her back pocket and flipped it open, and then quickly dialed Alexis' cell phone number.

"Hey, Alexis, you hear about them meteor crashings last night?"

Alexis slid out from under the beat up truck, black smudges of grease covering her face and hands as she gazed up at the boss curiously. "A friend and I saw _one_ last night. How many were there?"

"Two actually. Their craters were empty by the time the authorities found them."

She frowned slightly, pushing herself up under the truck again. _Two, huh_ she thought, shoving her wrench up behind some piping as she pondered. _That would make seven in the last four months . . . _

"Hey, you listenin'?"

She felt a grin tug at her lips and she playfully kicked her boss in the shin. "No, sir."

"Yeah, that figures," she heard him grumble then felt him lightly kick her back. "Just hurry up with the truck, would'ya? The owner's gettin' a little antsy."

She rolled her eyes and was briefly tempted to do more harm to the vehicle than fixing it. She hated being rushed, and if she was rushed, she made sure she did a shitty job just to spite the person rushing her.

Instead, she replied grouchily, "Well, I _might_ get this done a little faster if your lard butt was down here helping me."

She heard him chuckle and saw his feet walk away. "Sweetheart, I only hand out the checks. I leave all the dirty work to you punk ass kids."

"Yeah, but it's us punk ass kids who keep you in business so you _can_ hand out those checks!" she shouted back, grinning in spite of the damper that had dropped on her mood. She shook her head and began tightening a screw.

By the time she had finished with her shift, scrubbed her hands and forearms in the restroom, and said her goodbyes to the boss and fellow mechanics, the sun was already setting behind the skyscrapers of Los Angelus.

She was startled in the middle of walking to her truck when the cell phone shoved in her back pocket vibrated and sang Barney's "I Love You, You Love Me" theme.

"God damnit, Alexis, will you get rid of that ringtone already?" her burly boss growled as stalked past her, an embarrassed flush painting his unshaven cheeks. "Why the hell do you even _have_ it?"

"For that _exact_ reaction, right there!" she called, laughing as she pulled out the phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"

_"Alexis? Hey, it's Liberty."_

"Liberty! Hey, what'cha up to? Everything all right?"

_"Oh, yeah, everything's okay. Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a _really_ big favor?"_

She returned a small wave to one of her co-workers. "Sure thing."

_"Well, look, I found this trashed car behind some trees and I was wondering if, I dunno, you could come and get it out for me?"_

"A car?" she repeated, absently returning a wave to another worker.

_"Yeah, do you think you can help me out?"_

"Oh yeah, sure. Just give me a few and I'll be there."

_"Thank you _so_ much, Alexis."_

"It's all good," she laughed. "Catch you in a few then?"

_"All right, see y'a soon."_

"'Bye," she said, then closed her phone. She looked up and motioned her boss over, needing permission to use one of the wreckers for the night.

* * *

The ex-Sector Seven's base that lined the outskirts of Mission City and tunneled under the Hoover Dam was now secretly being occupied for a group of alien, robotic giants who were currently buzzing with restlessness due to newly obtained information by Teletraan II.

Sam frowned, staring up at the tall Autobot commander. "Starscream's back?"

"Yes, and he has brought recruits," Optimus replied, he voice deep and smooth as he gravely looked over the group standing around him silently.

When Sam had heard on the news channel that more 'meteors' had crashed, he had immediately called up Mikaela, and then left the house to meet Bumblebee only to find that his sunshine-yellow guardian had already been waiting for him.

He had been hoping that they were more Autobot allies, like the ones who had landed five months ago. He didn't think he had ever seen Optimus, or any of the others for that matter, so overwhelmed with emotion when they had confronted the newly arrived Autobots named Jetfire, Hotshot, Wheeljack, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker.

According to Optimus, not only had the two 'meteors' each contained a Decepticon, but there had also been three other radar signatures detected entering Earth's atmosphere. One of which being Starscream.

"Oh, this is just great! So what does that make?" he asked, quietly counting on his fingers before jerking his head up to look at Optimus, his eyes widening. "_Five_ more Decepticons?!"

"Sam, there were _seven _Decepticons three years ago, _including_ Megatron, and we still won," sighed Mikaela, rolling her eyes. "The odds of us losing are small, so why are you freaking out?"

"Yeah," Sunstreaker said, smirking and nudging his twin, "we've _got_ this!"

"Absolutely!" Sideswipe chimed, flashing a grin and throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders. "I mean, it's five against nine, and if _Starscream_ is the one replacing Megatron as leader then they're totally _slagged!_"

"Now look here, you two," growled Ironhide, grabbing a hold of the young Cybertronians by the back of their necks, making them shout indignant _'Hey!'s_ and _'Let me go!'s_. "It's that _exact_ same slagheadedness that led to Megatron's downfall! By underestimatin' the humans and thinkin' that he had the upper hand by outnumberin' us, he's now sittin' at the bottom of the sea. If you want to join that Pit-spawn then you can just keep talkin'!"

With that, he released the twin Autobots and gave them a little shove, watching them stumble forward. They threw glares at him, looking thoroughly scolded.

"Man, what's _your_ problem, Ironhide?" Sunstreaker snapped, rubbing his neck as he scowled, feeling a bit humiliated for being reprimanded so harshly in front of everyone, especially the humans. His twin was clearly looking as though he felt the same way.

"No, he's right," Ratchet intervened, sticking up for the battle-hardened warrior. "We can't underestimate the Decepticons, especially Starscream."

"Yeah, I got a feeling that hunk of scrap has somethin' up his sleeve," joined Jetfire quietly, causing everyone to look at him questioningly. "Yeah, Starscream may not be leadership material, but that doesn't mean he's unqualified in anything else. He's too intelligent and sneaky. I think he's probably got something planned . . ."

"Don't you think you're giving him a bit _too _much credit, Jetfire?" inquired Hotshot, crossing his arms and looking unconvinced.

The brilliantly white, shuttle-shifting Autobot peered down at his young, golden-plated comrade, his voice slightly muffled behind his battle mask as he spoke, "Starscream doesn't have any morals or values, or even a sense of self-pride. He's willing to do whatever to get what he wants."

"Yeah, but -," started Hotshot, but Wheeljack suddenly cut in, the panels on either side of his head flashing a bright, pale blue in sync with every word spoken.

"Look, Hotshot, it's practically _common knowledge_ that he kept tryin' to overthrow Megatron with every chance he got; even went so far as to try and assassinate him. Is it really _that_ hard to believe that Starscream is basically capable of _anything?_"

The scientist's words hung like a two-ton anvil in the air, the harsh ring of foreboding echoing silently throughout the control room.

Before the silence could get too awkward, however, Sideswipe jumped in, changing the subject quickly. "Well, fine, I understand," he mumbled, crossing his arms next too his brother as they both glared at their aged weapons specialist, "but jeez, why does Ironhide always have to be a grump about things? He's _always_ spoiling our fun."

"Because," growled the seasoned war veteran, "you're Autobots. You're not allowed to have fun."

"_What?_ Says who?" Sunstreaker demanded heatedly.

"Says _me!_" Ironhide shot back, glaring. The young mischief makers quickly backed off, but that didn't stop them from grumbling under their breaths, throwing him looks over their shoulders as they made their way over to the other young Autobots, Hotshot and Bumblebee.

"Know what I think?" Sideswipe whispered, leaning in close to the others, grinning.

"What?" his brother inquired, inclining closer as well, smirking.

"I think he's just jealous 'cause he probably _can't_ have fun. He might fall apart or something 'cause he so slaggin' _old_."

"That," Sunstreaker, nudging his brother, "or he's in need of _really _a good interfacing."

**_CLK-CLANG!_**

"ARGH!" cried the twins in unison, pain exploding behind their optics when the older Autobot slammed their heads together in response to their rude remarks.

"'Interface' _that_, you little _monstrosities!_" Ironhide roared, grabbing them roughly by their necks again. "Just for that, you punks are goin' to clean the base from top to bottom, and if you don't do it right the first time, I'm goin' to make you clean it again _and _add on two joors' worth of combat trainin' with _me_, and I guarantee that if comes down to that, not even the good doctor will be able to fix your dents!"

And with that, he swung the two struggling twins around and practically dragged them, cursing and shouting, out of the control room while everyone else watched on in amusement.

When everything had quieted down again, Sam took that moment to talk to Optimus privately, quietly asking, "So . . . what's going to happen now?"

The towering leader gazed down at him with his solar-blue optics, examining him silently. The boy had been through so much these past few years in his young life, most of it being without his voluntary choice. He wanted nothing more than to reassure him that there was nothing more to worry about.

But then he would be lying to him.

Barricade's and Scorponok's near fatal attack on him had been proof enough that he was anything _but_ safe. Vengeance was hell-bent to steal away the life of young Samuel, and there was only so much that he and his comrades could do to prevent it.

He glanced quietly at Teletraan II's monitor, and then breathed a small sigh before gently saying, "We wait."

* * *

"Holy crap, Lib'! This is a _police_ car!"

Liberty blanched, staring at the vehicle currently sitting in her car's spot in the garage.

"_What?_"

Alexis pointed to the barely distinguishable wording painted across the passenger's side of the car. It displayed the department's crest with the word 'POLICE' stretched above it.

"Oh, my God," she murmured, crossing her arms and standing back to fully study the nearly unrecognizable black and white vehicle. "I can't believe I didn't notice that."

"Well, I'm sure you'd have known if the sirens weren't missing," Alexis observed, pointing to the color-coded wires sticking up out of the caved-in roof. "Jeez, what the hell _happened_ to this thing?" she continued, gently but in vainly tried to reattach the side mirror that had been dangling on only a couple of wires.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Liberty sighed, idly running her fingertips over the jagged edges of a hole where something vicious had punched its way through.

* * *

He was in such pain . . .

But that . . . odd, soft warmth . . .

. . . Where was he?

Wait . . . he remembered now: running through a forest; being ambushed; one of the Autobots ripping out his vocal processor; another dismembering his arm, and so much more . . .

The _pain_ - and on only pure willpower, after they had left him . . ., he had transformed back into his alt-mode and . . . slowly and painfully dragged himself back into the forest . . . and then collapsed; going offline.

But now he was back online . . .

He was _alive? _How? And w_here_ was he? How much time had passed since?

"This is probably a very stupid question, but . . . do you think it can be fixed?"

His visual receptors were blurry, making it hard to fully depict who was in his presence, but he was able to make out two, small outlines standing in front of him.

Humans.

Female humans.

All his sensors were in horrible condition; _everything_ was in horrible condition. He was practically blind, nearly deaf, and by a couple of failed attempts to scare the two fleshbags away, he had also gone mute. He couldn't even get a response from his processing program when he silently ordered it to do a full body scan and report the damages.

Nonetheless, the fact that he couldn't feel anything in his arms or legs but yet could feel every bit of pain there was to experience in a lifetime, he didn't need his internal computer to tell him that he was currently paralyzed and ultimately vulnerable.

"It actually isn't as stupid as you think," commented the other female fleshling. "There's no question in my mind that the framework is gunna have to be completely replaced, but look here –,"

He wanted to shout in agony when his hood was forced up to uncover his inner mechanics to their eyes. White-hot pain clawed through his circuitry like a vicious virus as they examined him.

"The hood actually acted like a shield of sorts against whatever did this. Well . . . okay, maybe not _that_ well of a shield. The engine is ruined, and the transmission isn't looking much better. I dunno; it could be fixed, I guess, but it'd take a lot of money and time to do it. But . . . hey, you're not actually thinking of _keeping_ it, are you?"

"I – okay, _maybe_. Though, I should do a run on the license plate numbers first . . . Er, okay maybe not. Seems the plates were removed."

What they _needed_ to do was leave him _alone_ . . .

_Primus . . . my mainframe . . . _he silently groaned, feeling what the fleshbags called a 'migraine' coming on as he continued to listen to the two fleshbags talk, hoping to hear something that would hint to where he was.

"C'mon, Liberty, it's a pile of junk. Buying another car would be cheaper than keeping this around and trying to fix it, not to mention all the months, even _years,_ it would take to get it running again."

"Alexis," sighed the other female, and he mentally flinched when he felt her warm, soft fingers brush over his dented fender, "I need something to do; something to take my mind off . . . Joseph."

_Stupid femmes_, he thought agitatedly, wanting nothing more than to crush them and to get far away from wherever the Pit he was.

"But _Liberty_, you don't know the first _thing_ about cars!"

"But I do know a bit about welding, and I have a friend who _does _know the first thing about cars, don't I?"

_Just get away from me, you disgusting flesh creatures!_ he wanted to shout. He didn't want either of the nasty organics touching him anymore than they already _were_.

"Now look," the other female stated, "I'm willing help, Lib'. . . but only when I have the time. If you _really_ want to do this, then the least you can do is research up on the inner and basic workings of cars and attempt to do most of the easier stuff yourself."

_This . . . cannot be happening_, he thought, almost numbly. He couldn't believe what he was _hearing_ . . .

First, he had been dismantled by the slagging Autobots. Then, he awoke to find himself alive and in mainframe-crunching pain. And now, he was being held against his will by an incompetent fleshling with a bleeding heart for fragged up machines and a determination to put them back together again . . . but did not possess any sort of _skill _or _knowledge_ in the art of mechanics to actually _do so_?

_Oh . . . oh, Primus . . ._


	4. Chapter III

**Title: **To the Rats  
**Author: **ShadowDemon-Gengar  
**Character Pairings: **Barricade/OC; Starscream/Alexis  
**Genre: **Romance/Drama  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **Profanity  
**Disclaimers: **I own nothing Transformers.  
**Summary: **Two women; two Decepticons; nine Autobots; over 6.6 billion humans; one mutual enemy. The Decepticons and Autobots are at it again, preparing themselves for another intense battle against one another, but what is going to happen when both sides learn of a more heinous threat slowly making its way toward Earth, searching for the spark of Primus?

**Recommendation(s):** Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Holy_ crap, WTF is this? An _update?!_ Hell yeah, but only because I'm scared of Blackwing.Rose and the fact I think she was about ready to eat me alive for allowing this story to wallow in its neglect, lol.

lol, nah, I'm kidding. I understand the frustration, I suppose. I love this story, which makes necessary revising that much more difficult for me. ;-;

* * *

**Chapter Three: Time Ticks**

Their base was filthy as slag.

And just as absurdly cold and damp.

The first orders he'd slapped down after arriving at the base was for said base to be cleaned; top to bottom.

As for the temperature . . . well, they were just going to have to deal with it.

_What the __slag__ was I consuming when I decided to build our only Earth base two miles under a fragging lot? _Starscream thought irritably.

Grumbling irritably under his breath, he snagged his second-in-command by the wing as he stalked by, dragging the confused, protesting Decepticon to the control room. He firmly pushed him toward the gigantic, black-screened monitor looming over everything in the circular room.

"Tell me when you get this online," he snapped.

"Uh . . . sure," Thundercracker said, giving him a quick salute before turning to the button-infested control panels.

He left his wing-mate to visit the construction bay, where he found Skywarp, Demolishor, and Cyclonous struggling to haul a large, steel crate into a corner.

"Tell me why we couldn't have built this thing back on Cybertron? Or at least on the way _here?_" whined Cyclonous in his high-pitched, crazed-toned voice as they dropped the crate heavily. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. "Blasted . . . crate . . . why is it . . . so heavy?"

"Stop being so weak, slaghead," he growled, annoyed. "The crate is heavy because it's made up of a reinforced steel, you loon. There weren't any guarantees that the weapon would've survived impact had it already been built. At least in the crate, I knew the parts would be safe. Now, stop your sniveling and get your afts out of here and start cleaning this Primus forsaken place! _NOW_, slaggit!"

The three Decepticons quickly scrambled out of the room, tossing dark looks over their shoulders as they exited out into the corridors.

His expression still sour, Starscream grabbed hold of one of the large, flat dials attached securely on each side of the steel crate, fitting his sharp digits into the grooves and attempted to turn it, which would then unlock one of the latches on the inside.

But it wouldn't give way.

Scowling, he leaned his weight into it, managing to twist it loose. The latch on the inside slid open with a resounding _click._ He quickly did this with the other three dials before the top panel was released with a harsh hiss.

Quietly, he removed the top and set it down, peering inside and then reaching in to pull out a large, black tablet that sat on top of the many sleeves of steel, neatly bundled wires, and various types of bolts, screws, and rivets. He pressed a couple of buttons on the blank tablet to activate the hologram, revealing the instructions to assemble his Null Ray.

And then . . . he began to regret not recruiting at least one Constructicon.

_"Thundercracker to Starscream."_

"_What?" _he snarled as he slapped the tablet back into the crate. The design of his weapon had been fairly simple . . . he created it, after all. But he lacked the tools or the advanced knowledge of construction, as did the rest of his scrap-heap crew.

_"I have _WAR_ up and running."_

_"Fine,"_ he hissed, disconnecting from their communication link, emphasizing the cutoff with an irritated jerk of his head.

* * *

"God _damnit!_"

He settled comfortably in an air of sadistic amusement as he watched the human femme kick a tool away in frustration.

"God, how does Alexis deal with this shit day in and day out? It's so – so _argh!"_

_Good; get frustrated, you disgusting flesh creature, _he thought with vicious hostility.

Suddenly, with a suppressed shudder of discomfort, he felt something - something that not even a proper human mechanic could possibly find - within him firmly snap back into place, followed by his internal computer and nano-processor coming back online, followed by a male, monotone voice.

_'Processor System rebooting – Now scanning and accessing damages and repairs:  
__Artillery and Weaponry System offline.  
__Audio Receptors online.  
__Circuit Neurosystem offline.  
__Energon Levels: Critical.  
__Emergency Energon Backup: Depleted.  
__Lower-left appendage's Central Joint damaged.  
__Optical Visual Processor and Corresponding Components online.  
__Radar and Communication Link Systems offline.  
__Short-Range and Long-Range Sensors and Signature Sensors online.  
__Upper-left appendage missing.  
__Upper-right Optical damaged.  
__Vocal Processor offline.'_

He wanted to growl in frustration. His state of helplessness, not unlike that of a newly created Sparkling, was not something he was accustomed to nor wanted to experience any longer. But . . . he had no choice in the matter, and the pulsing pain and restlessness was close to driving him into madness.

_Primus, how could I have ended up this way? _he thought, watching, through a fog of sudden exhaustion, as the human femme picked through her tools.

He remembered a time when he had once been one of Megatron's most competent, loyal soldiers, scouting and hunting down certain Autobots who were highly suspected of possessing valuable information on different aspects on the war and, most importantly, the Allspark itself.

And he had never once returned to the base without completing a mission. Sometimes, he had stayed away from the base for weeks at a time, knowing that patience was his one virtue amongst his sins . . . and thus making all of his missions successful.

And now . . . he was here – leaderless; alone; broken.

And a good portion of the blame rightfully belonged to one, insignificant maggot:

_Starscream_.

His rage boiled, hot and snarling, through his circuits.

_You Pit-ugly fucker . . ._ he seethed blackly, vowing as he absently registered the human throwing her tools into the open, steel toolbox and storming out of the garage._ Megatron might have dismissed your traitorous ways . . . but no one double-crosses __**me**__. . ._

The female returned with a handful of envelops, dangerously oblivious to his ominous thoughts and time-bomb like temper.

Exhausted, angry, and in pain, he desperately tried to distract himself by directing his attention back to her, scanning her handful of mail as she sifted through it: electric bill, male enhancement advertisement, telephone bill, America Online service advertisement, Netflix advertisement, a letter without a return address –

When she paused, he mentally quirked an optic ridge and zoomed his Optical Sensors in on the letter as she set the others down on her workbench and, much to his indignant dismay, then braced her rear against the side of his mangled hood.

"Hmm . . . maybe it's a letter from Santa, eh, big guy?" she lightly teased, waving the envelope a little and glancing at him with a grin as she tore it open.

_What in the Pit is a _'Santa'_?_ he thought, absentmindedly, still vexed with her aft being pressed against him. What he wouldn't give to blare his horn or rev his engine . . .

When she pulled out the letter, he noticed right away that it wasn't a customary note. The contents consisted of cutout letters, varying between different sizes, colors, and fonts, which were pasted on the slip of paper, one after the other, to form words.

" . . . Oh, God."

The terrified quiver in the human femme's vocal patterns pricked his interest more. Scowling, he casually scanned the letter as it shook in her hands:

_"Dear Liberty,_

_It seems you've skipped out on me while I've been . . . __away. __Why? I've missed you so much. You must be feeling the same way. But don't worry. I will be seeing you real soon . . ."_


End file.
